


Two truths and a lie

by TenkeyLess



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenkeyLess/pseuds/TenkeyLess
Summary: After the Exarch's failure at Mt Gulg, he remains in the grasp of Emet-Selch. The immutable Ascian hasquestionshe is determined to receive answers for.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Two truths and a lie

The Exarch knows not how long he's been here.

Trapped, hunched and dangling over a crystal pulpit, his torso and arms are bound by the purple growth. Only his pained breathing fills the silence, echoing against the smothering blackness surrounding his prison. His staff lies just before him, Allagan bronze flat against the crystalline floor, frustratingly out of reach. 

There, he waits for his captor to return.

There, he battles despair. 

His warrior, breaking but not yet shattered, is surely on the cusp of succumbing to the wretched white within. The Exarch's thoughts are consumed with the memory of the warrior-- _his dearest friend_ \--calling his name on Mt Gulg before the crack of a gunshot blotted out all else. 

The rumble of rending void permeates the chamber as Emet-Selch arrives, clasping a bulky bundle under one arm. Eyes narrowing in anger at the Ascian, the Exarch pulls lips back from fanged teeth to growl a demand before cutting short. Realizing what, exactly, Emet-Selch has tucked under his arm sends the Exarch into a panic.

"Warrior!"

Crystal bites into his arms as the Exarch struggles against his bindings. Blood wells from the cuts on his spoken arm, smearing against the dark crystal, and he cries out in fear, not pain. The Ascian merely smirks at his struggles, summoning forth a section of crystal and shapes it to bind the warrior in a mirror of the Exarch's prison. 

"There, isn't that _cozy_. The Warrior of Darkness and his mysterious summoner, together at last."

"What have you _done_ , Ascian."

Emet-Selch lounges back on a casually summoned lump of crystal, crudely formed into a chaise. Lacing his gloved fingers together, he watches the Exarch with keen gold eyes.

"Why, I've secured this disappointment so that we may witness his transformation together." 

The warrior stirs, grime stricken face creasing in pain. 

"I am ever so curious as to how you pulled the Hero of the Source, body and soul, here to the First with your tower, Exarch. Perhaps you might pass the time sharing its method with me?"

A low groan from the warrior's bound form rolls across the chamber. Eyes fluttering open, he takes a deep breath and immediately begins wretching. Deep, hacking coughs wrack his frame until he coughs up a wet glob of shimmering Light, and spits it down to the floor with a sodden plop. Panting quietly, the warrior's eyes close again as glowing tears illuminate the corners of his eyes. 

G'raha is seized by the need to help--to go to him-- _to save him and fix this_ \--but finds his crystal bonds unyielding. Feet scrabble against the floor for purchase to _push_ forward, to _break free_ , but the Exarch finds his strength lacking. Head back in defiance despite his circumstance, he begs the reclining Ascian.

" _Help him!_ "

Emet-Selch idly examines his hands, waving one aloft in relaxed contemplation. 

"Hmm, no. His soul is insufficiently joined to contain the primordial aether, and therefore useless to me save for as this Shard's harbinger of Light."

The Exarch cries out a denial, growing frantic as the warrior's breathing slows, shimmering drool hissing as it comes in contact with the inversely aspected crystal floor.

"Damn you, _help him!_ "

Emet-Selch pauses at the Exarch's shout, head turning to give him a frown at the excessive volume. Stifling a sigh, his shoulders droop and he offers a compromise.

"Very well, I could be convinced to offer him some _relief_ , if you but would share with me the modifications you have made to _my_ tower."

The Exarch freezes in his struggles, crystal bindings grotesquely smeared with his blood. Broken laughter tumbles from his lips, the occasional glimpse of a burning and broken city around him finally making sense. The Ascian is as bereft as G'raha had been, waking in the tower after the Eighth Umbral Calamity had stolen ~~his heart~~ their world's future. 

"I agree to this bargain, Ascian." He snarls, traces of hysteric laughter lingering in his cracked voice. "However, if you wish to intervene in your own past, knowing of my journey will avail you naught." 

Emet-Selch bristles at the willfulness on display, curling his fingers to _snap_ before thinking better of it and relaxing back into the crystal seat. He instead gestures imperiously for the bound miqo'te man to begin.

And so he does.

The Exarch spins his tale, woven of words from a world out of balance. A teetering future, striving to fix their past by any means. Of the keystone machine in the depths of the tower, latched to this moment, this opportunity, to set things aright. 

The warrior is conspicuously quiet throughout, slow rise and fall of his back the only indication he yet lives. The Exarch's crimson eyes return to the warrior throughout his story, the purpose of his journey manifest before him. Yet this story's end hangs precariously by the barest thread, a good end to the tale fading out of sight. Surreptitiously the Exarch stretches his aether out to his staff, creeping closer as his story draws to a close. He knows he is no match for the Ascian this far from the tower, but perhaps if he can Teleport--

The mocking slap of gloves fills the chamber, clapping hands out of place in this desolate present. 

"Impressive, Exarch. All those resources, funneled to save _one man_. Pity _you_ were the one chosen to execute such a brilliant plan." 

Emet-Selch sits up from his slouch, hands pushing on his knees, to slowly rise to his feet. His skirts rustle as he turns to leave, and the Exarch jolts forward, panicked.

"Wait! You promised--"

"Yes, yes, _relief_ for the our mutual friend." Emet-Selch _snaps_ and the warrior dissipates into shadowy aether.

"I'll be sure to offer such to our _real_ friend, soon. He's just arrived." 

Humming a jaunty tune, the Ascian saunters off through a portal as the Exarch stares, aghast, at where the fake warrior had been. An illusion, intended to torment him. A cruel lie to prise the truth from his memory. An effective bait for the failure who did not siphon the Light to save him.

Gritting his teeth, the Exarch extends his aether once more to the staff below him. His reserves are dangerously low, he will have only the one chance to break free.

To save his friend.

To complete his tale.

The Allagan staff trips upwards into his waiting hand and the crystal binding him shatters. Falling to his knees, shards of crystal dig into flesh and score new wounds. With breath ragged from pain, the Exarch slowly rises, leaning heavily on his staff. 

He casts his gaze to the black clouds hemming in the chamber and catches glimpses of a city set ablaze. The flashes of burning flame, visible through the miasma, inspire oppressive dread. The Exarch gulps, taking as deep a breath as able with his wounds, and sets out into the hellscape.

To unmake what must be unmade, and forge a brighter future--at any cost.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of Emet-Selch using the WoL (or WoL's appearance) to get his answers about the tower has been something kicking around for awhile. Here's my take on how that might go down!
> 
> Happy-ish uptick at the end cause I can't resist an optimistic ending xD


End file.
